


Not the Same as Having

by Sthrissa



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-06
Updated: 2009-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-04 05:10:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sthrissa/pseuds/Sthrissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have always thought that during 'Amok Time', given Spock was in effect just entering puberty, T'Pring's actions could be interpreted as akin to that of a love struck teenager than of the manipulative gold digger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. T’Pring contemplates her life with Stonn

They say that my judgement is impaired, and they distain my logic. The clan of my birth no longer recognises me as daughter and the family of he who is my husband regard me with contempt. Those that I once knew as friends will know me no longer.

I am a social pariah, an outcast where once I was the object of envy, though of course it is illogical to envy. Wherever I walk I can hear the whispers that are not uttered and the condemnation in the thoughts of those too disciplined to speak them. I have fallen far.

Though regarded with aversion, as with all things related to the Time, kal-if-fee does occur, being the only method available to divorce an undesired bond mate. Even those of my former circle were aware of those individuals professionally employed to fight as champions, (and at times used as leverage to compel the dissolution of the childhood bond before the onset of the first Pon Farr, though such behaviour is scandalous), who are contractually obligated to release the divorcee after payment of an agreed fee. Subject as we are to the demands of biology, theirs is recognised as a necessary service, even though the reasons for their profession cannot be discussed in civilised society.

It is not simply for the act of choosing the kal-if-fee, nor for attempting to bring death to my intended and the outworlder, that I am shunned. Death has been part of the Time since before the dawn of our species. Even in the millennias following the Reforms, people have died at the hands of their bond mate, at a Time when logic is ash to the fires of our physiology. Perhaps in other circumstances it would be remarked upon, but my attempt to cause the death of an outworlder is so insignificant in comparison to my true crime that, despite our eidetic memory, it is unnoticed.

My greatest offence is not /what/ I had done, but /who/ it had been done to. My crime is to have dared deny the son of Sarek, the scion of the greatest clan of Vulcan. For rejecting the position of being wife of such a one, with all that it entailed, choosing in his stead but an attendant, a gardener in the service of what once had been my clan, I am shunned. Where once, as the intended of Sarek's heir I would have one day ascended to become Matriarch, now I am as nothing to those who had been my equals.

Few value my reasons for choosing kal-if-fee. Stonn is not the most intelligent, nor the strongest. His resources are not extensive, and his family's station far below the privileged circles into which I had been born; he should have been below my notice. What logic then, for my choice?

What reason, but affection for one who spoke with me of my favoured texts, taught me the ways to induce the Kir'ee plant to yield its seed, admired the ancient fresco adorning my chamber ceiling. Affection for the one accompanied me to Lake Yuron, and marvelled by my side at the sight of so much water, even as my intended danced between the stars, countless light years away. What reason but affection, for the one who would tame the Vulcan landscape for my pleasure.

What reason, thus, but the indulgence of emotion. That or faulty logic; tolerated perhaps in a pre-Kah-Wans child but not an adolescent of my rank. To have explained my true motivation would have required me to confess to emotions. I may have thrown away all else, but I am still Vulcan, and Vulcans do not acknowledge the passions of our biology. And thus, at the koon-ut-kal-if-fee, I lied.

Many question the logic of my actions. Each one of my decisions is considered flawed. Faced with the variables of two virtually unknown individuals (despite one being my intended), I could not be certain I would be freed by either victor of the kal-if-fee. My assertion that the outworlder would have no use for me was conjecture based upon few facts. Combined with the low probability of the outworlder's victory and my risk of subsequent death at the hands of a male whose bond mate had refused him in the throes of plak tow, my odds were too poor to logically justify the selection of such a champion.

I had no other choice.

The option of hiring a professional as others do was closed to me, for no Vulcan would be willing to be the cause of the death of Sarek's heir. I could not have chosen Stonn, willing though he was. Although a human hybrid, my intended was a professional Federation soldier, descended from the greatest of the ancient warriors, heir and son of Sarek and trained with the resources of that house, whilst Stonn, though full Vulcan, is but a gardener.

I had stated to the son of Sarek, that whoever was victorious from the kal-if-fee (and I had no doubt the victor would be the son of Sarek) my intent was for Stonn and I to continue as before. That too was a lie. Fully bonded to one of such psi ability as he, I would have been incapable of any affection towards another. I would have belonged to him body and mind, forever, my katra bound to his even beyond death. And one day Stonn would have required his own bond mate.

Perhaps, had it been different, I would have chosen Stonn as my champion and we would both have perished that day. Or perhaps I would have accepted the son of Sarek rather than see Stonn perish at his hands, and be now the Lady T'Pring, wife of a clan heir. But such speculation is pointless, for I did neither. The moment I had seen the outworlder, I knew.

My intended is telepathically strong while I am not, and with our childhood bond weakened by the distance of the void of space he had always managed to shield his mind from mine, and I knew naught of him save that he was there, waiting. Only when they materialised upon the sands of Vulcan did I realise, and my salvation was clear. If the outworlder was to die at the hands of my intended, he would follow the other into death, too deep within the flames of plak tow to resist the pull of his t'hy'la's katra fleeing its human body. And I would be free.

I had been permitted to choose the outworlder as champion, though it must have grieved T'Pau to sanction the death of her kinsman, for I think she too realised what the outworlder was. Though others cannot find logic in my rejection of all the resources due the wife of Sarek's heir, I tell myself it is better that I am now nothing. For I do not think I could ever have gained the strength to have done as T'Pau; Vulcan deserves a Matriarch who can rule her people well, though her very being rebels at the choices she must make.

 

They look upon me with distain now, and wonder if I regret the choices I made. I live in a circumstance beneath that into which I was born, with few resources compared to what I was accustomed. Stonn is not a prince but a gardener. He is not known across the galaxy as a brilliant scientist or explorer. He does not walk amongst the stars basking in their wonder.

The son of Sarek told me that wanting is not the same as having. I walk upon the red sands of Vulcan with the husband of my choice, and I can feel his mind embraced against my own through a bond that will last beyond even death. Regret is illogical.


	2. T’Pring on a less love struck day

Some days, as I attend to the menial tasks of my position, in service of those who were once my servants, I am tempted to indulge in bitterness before I catch myself and drag those thoughts back with the chains of the Disciplines.

I have never excelled intellectually, nor am I exceptionally talented in any field. I am simply as good as any other Vulcan. Without something spectacular to recommend me - and sometimes I think even with - given the stigma of my actions, there are few willing to extend to me any offer of employment or position. He who was once my gardener is now my husband, and, like my husband, I serve as an attendant in my former clan, conspicuously avoided by any of my former acquaintance.

Perhaps I am fortunate that I have even this modest position; that the house of my former intended did not seek retribution. I tell myself that this is so. Sometimes, though, I cannot prevent a flash of bitterness for the ways of my people which see me condemned, whilst the half-human son of Sarek sails the stars with his human t'hy'la.

For the humans it is their women who are considered, wrongly or otherwise, volatile, emotional and passionate, though I think what they call passion is but an ember to the Vulcan inferno. For my species, it is the male who is more beholden to their emotions. Though both genders are more hot-blooded than even the Klingons, it is our men who are subject to the hormonal tides, our men for whom there comes a Time when even the Disciplines are insufficient to imprison madness.

Though the Reforms were intended to tame our emotions, to civilise the savagery of unfettered passion, though it was our males who pre-Reform were the most vicious, and for whom the Disciplines were designed, it is also our males who are forgiven more easily for their transgressions.

That Sarek, the head of the greatest clan of Vulcan has a human wife and hybrid heir, is testament of his passions subverting his logic. Yet none speak of nor regard it with more than mild disapproval, certainly not the censure I am subject to. Even he who is my husband, though his emotions were as much responsible for the rejection of the son of Sarek as mine were, is not condemned as I. For I am female, for whom passion supposedly does not burn as bright, though the blood of the great warrior houses flow as green through my veins.

For my people it is the female who must be controlled, a bank to her bond mate's flame. It is the female who must yield, when the male is stripped of all rational thought. And is only the female who may challenge, for the only divorce available to the other gender is their own death. And though name and property is passed down the male line, it is the wife of the clan leader who governs. It is a female who is the Matriarch of all.

And it is the female, though her body and mind forever belong to her bond mate, who must assume responsibility and is not permitted to falter.

Sometimes, as I see the freedom of other species, who choose as they wish without censure or consequence, I am tempted to indulge in bitterness. But I remember that I am Vulcan. I understand. And from understanding comes logic with which emotion is bound.


End file.
